


Beauty and the Bee-ast

by pengiesama



Category: No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-09
Updated: 2012-04-09
Packaged: 2017-11-03 07:54:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/379086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pengiesama/pseuds/pengiesama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nezumi comes home to Shion on a journey of self-discovery, but one cannot ignore the fact that he has been turned into a fuzzy potato.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beauty and the Bee-ast

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Nezumi is supposed to look like Dr. Seuss' Lorax. I drew a picture of him [here](http://pengiesama.tumblr.com/post/19321013608/he-is-the-lorat-he-speaks-for-the-bees).

A month.

A month since the wall fell.

A month since the facility crumbled.

A month since the death of his closest friend.

A month since the man he – a month since the man he loved wandered into the wrecked landscape and left him with only the lingering feel of his lips on his.

Shion fumbled groggily with his keys, dropping them to the ground.

A month of meetings, planning, paper-signing.  Housing for the displaced must be built, schools for the flood of refugee children, the design for the new water purification facility must be approved, and…a memorial for those crushed under the boot of the previous leadership…

It was past midnight; his mother was certainly asleep by now. (She would stay up to wait for him in the past, of course, until he had begged her otherwise. There was no point in both of them trudging through the day with dark-rimmed eyes, especially when she had to be up at five in the morning to get the bread ready for sale.) Quietly as he could, Shion creaked up the steps to his room, fully intending on collapsing into his bed with all his clothes on. A few fitful hours of dreams of Nezumi’s mouth and hands, and then a meeting with the architectural committee at seven sharp.

He opened the door with a sigh.

“Welcome home. How’s my little social worker today?”

Shion stared. The window latch had been broken, allowing a small furry creature to enter and lounge on his bed. Said furry creature waggled its eyebrows and twirled its bushy moustache with one paw, propping its head up with the other.

About the size of a mid-sized dog, seemingly bipedal. The forepaws had elongated digits, and seemed flexible enough to suggest capability for humanoid motor skills. Its body was covered in fine fur, with a great volume of whiskers surrounding a tiny black nose. It was wholly unlike any creature Shion had had the opportunity to study in a zoological sense.

That being said, the voice was utterly unmistakable.

Shion’s bag dropped to the floor in an untidy heap. He sank to his knees at the side of the bed, not recalling the journey from the doorway, and gazed into the gray eyes that he remembered so very, very well.

“…Nezumi?” he whispered.

“Forgot my face so quickly, huh?” Nezumi stretched luxuriously on the bedspread. The entrancing effect this otherwise may have had was spoiled some by Nezumi’s current…structure. “Not that I can blame you, I suppose. Got chosen for a bit of a makeover.”

He would sooner forget himself (and had, in the heat of a few moments) than part with the memory of this man’s face. It was so strange, he thought as he pitched down to the bed, gathering Nezumi into his arms and burying his nose in his fur, that a scant month’s separation could wreak such havoc on his nerves. Certainly he knew Nezumi could take on whatever the wilderness threw at him, but…

“I know.” Nezumi’s arms, tiny as they were now, had never held him so tightly. “I know, I know.”

It was just good to have him back.

For a few long moments, boy and small strange fuzzy thing stayed wrapped in each other’s arms.  However, Shion’s pragmatism soon began to flare. He dutifully scooped Nezumi up and began to carry him to the door. Nezumi squawked indignantly and put up a mighty squirm.

“Hey, what the _fuck_ , put me down—”

“You,” Shion said firmly. “Need a bath.”

Nezumi’s glare didn’t really have the same effect when it was coming from an animal about the size and shape of an irregularly-developed pumpkin.  (Shion was getting much better at practicing the literary techniques of simile and metaphor and felt a twinge of glee that he would be able to show Nezumi his newfound skill. ) However, in the interest of fairness, Shion thought it best to explain.

“Food-selling establishments have health codes to follow. Just think of what would happen if the customers saw you around the kitchen with your fur like that!”

Nezumi’s fur was tangled and matted with dirt and twigs, and smelled of sweat and something that Shion dearly hoped would wash off in the bath and wasn’t some sort of pheromone musk associated with whatever species he was now. Nezumi gave one last petulant squirm.

“So I guess I’m staying here now? How very kind of you to decide for me,” Nezumi grumbled half-heartedly. He had the slightest hint of insecurity in his tone.

Shion beamed. There wasn’t a decision to be made for it at all, truth be told. Shion was sick and tired of his lonely bedroom, and had already seen the superfiber-cloak-turned-knapsack that Nezumi had stashed under the bed.

They sat in the bathroom waiting for the tub to fill, Shion picking the worst of the twigs out of Nezumi’s fur. Nezumi tried his best to look put-upon, but the edges of his moustache twitched at the effort to suppress the smile Shion knew was there.  His own mouth was beginning to hurt from the grin he thought would now never leave.

“You know,” Shion began, musing aloud. “Grooming one another is a very well-established social bonding activity in primates. I can’t help but think that ingrained social behavior traits would carry over in the event of a species transfer—”

“Are you ever going to ask why I look like this?” Nezumi interrupted, swatting at Shion with a frustrated paw.

Oh. He thought he might have been onto something there with that train of thought. No matter, he’d – he’d – oh, how would this go – he’d consult his train schedule and pay for his pass and board at the next available station. Metaphors were such work.

Nezumi snapped his fingers in front of his face impatiently, which in addition to bringing Shion’s attention off trains, answered his questions regarding the motor manipulation skills of Nezumi’s new hands.

“Well,” Shion said, shrugging. “You’d tell me eventually, I imagine.”

And why spoil such a wonderful night with a thousand questions? Nezumi gave an explosive sigh, and scrabbled up the side of the bathtub to stand wide-legged on its edge. A paw clutched to his heart, and bringing the other up to his face study its palm, Nezumi wove his story.

“You see, I have become the unfortunate lead in a Beaumontian tale; my form taken and twisted, my only beacon of hope shining in the flower that grows so blithely, so very airheadedly, in the palace gardens. I must stare down the beast that gazes back from the looking glass and reflect upon him.”

Shion nodded slowly. “I…see.”

Nezumi stretched out his limbs and fell backward, splashing into the tub. He drifted slowly, lazily, across the water’s surface, waiting for his cue. They would get absolutely nowhere with this unless Shion gave it to him. He sighed.

“And what does all that mean, exactly?” he asked.

Nezumi gave a cocky little smile. “Got cursed. On journey of self-discovery to break enchantment. Thought I would hole up here in the meantime. C’est tout.”

Well, that explained a few things. A very few. In any event, Shion thrilled to think that Nezumi would seek out his home to stay during his self-discovery journey, though he would have to make clear this time that he wouldn’t stand to be left behind again if the journey beckoned elsewhere.

“Says toot,” echoed Shion. He lathered up his hands with shampoo, and, emboldened with experience in the art of bathing stinky and bad-tempered beasts, went straight to work.

The mats were not as bad as they had seemed (Shion breathed a sigh of relief, he didn’t want to see Nezumi’s reaction to him having to bring out the scissors – well, okay, maybe he’d like to see it just a little), and Nezumi was marginally more cooperative than Dogkeeper’s employees. Too cooperative, in fact…from the way his little body leaned into Shion’s hands, the way his eyes were constantly on the verge of fluttering shut, Shion could tell that the journey from who-knows-where must have exhausted him.  In no time at all Shion was fluffing him dry with a towel on the tile.

Nezumi gave a great yawn, and tugged the towel from Shion’s hands. “Though I enjoyed the spa treatment, I think I’ll be turning in for the night. Hopefully you don’t thrash around as much as I remember.”

He flung the towel about himself like a cloak, and yawned overloud once more as he marched from the room. The joy Shion felt sublimated any hopes of a comeback to Nezumi’s barbs, if he’d ever had any.

As he slipped into bed next to Nezumi, he heard the first few patters of raindrops on the window. He wanted to ask if there was a word for this sort of thing – like bookends – but Nezumi was already curled on his side, facing him, fast asleep.

\--

“Thank you so, so much for all you’ve done, Nezumi,” Karan said with deepest sincerity, tenderly clasping Nezumi’s paw between her hands. “When I think about what would have happened to Shion without you…”

Nezumi’s moustache twitched. “Pleasure was all mine, to be sure,” he said, flatly.

Karan smiled warmly. “I’m so glad to finally meet you. From Shion’s description, I, ah, thought…”

She inspected the fuzzy paw covered whole by her hand.

“…that you might be a bit, ah, taller.”

“He’s on a journey of self-discovery,” Shion explained, helpfully.

Karan nodded in understanding. “Well, you’re welcome to stay here as long as you need. I heard you’re quite the cook; I could always use an extra hand around the bakery.”

Shion smiled bright and wide. What a wonderful idea, that Nezumi could keep his mother company during his own long days at the committee! And maybe, sometime, if he wanted, he could come along with Shion to the committee meetings…oh, it would be so wonderful to have a friendly face, a person that wouldn’t snub their nose at his young age, a person that could look him in his strange red eyes and at his scarred face without disgust. He could always make up some excuse about Nezumi wishing to deliver a presentation, as a representative of the oppressed West Block citizens, as a representative of the Forest Tribes –

“No,” Nezumi snapped at Shion’s vocalization of these thoughts.

A pang of hurt thrummed through Shion’s heart. “But—”

“I’ve had more than enough of this city. In any incarnation.”

Shion’s mouth became a hard line. “Nezumi. Number Six has changed, I’ve saw to it myself. Previous government and research heads have been put to justice. The wall is destroyed. We are moving forward, to a future of—”

“Shion,” Karan said quietly. “Let it be. Nezumi’s feelings are…understandable.”

His mother’s eyes were distant and sad as she gazed at her hands, clenched in her apron, and silence deafened the room.

Nezumi bit loudly into a nut cookie, crunching as he spoke.

“The circumstances being that my stage talents cannot be taken seriously in my current form, I feel I would be of more use working off my board as your mama’s personal kitchen pixie.” He brushed crumbs from his moustache. “Though my cooking experience is a touch lacking when it comes to pastries, I trust in her as a fully competent teacher. And otherwise in my full capacity to march up and down the streets with a sample plate bellowing about muffins.”

Karan smiled and fluffed the tuft of fur at the top of Nezumi’s head. “No more talk about this paying for board nonsense, you silly thing. But I suppose I could share my secrets with you…”

Shion gave a wan smile and listened to his mother’s laughter. One day, he would restore both their faith in this city.

\--

Shion had plowed through the next day’s to-do list with the tenacity of a man with a mission; of a man with a tiny fuzzy mustached dog-pumpkin creature waiting for him at home. He flung open the door to the bakery triumphantly – home before eleven, for once!

“Sincerest apologies, your grace, but we’ve just closed for the evening.” Nezumi tugged off his head-kerchief and pressed it to his heart, bowing deeply. “I beseech you for your forgiveness.”

The joy crushing Shion’s heart was almost physically painful. He knelt to the floor, at Nezumi’s feet, as the latter untied his miniature apron.

“How was business today?”

“Bustling, to be sure. And not a single pie left with any fuzzy surprises from yours truly baked inside.”

Nezumi tossed his apron over his shoulder and marched into the kitchen, a plate of sandwiches balanced atop his head when he emerged.

“Though I imagine that was only achieved because your mama had me on adorable mascot duty. She’s turned in for the night; left us some snacks for when you got back. I’ll escort you to your chambers, sir.”

After dinner, they sat together at the windowsill, Nezumi perched comfortably on Shion’s lap. Shion set his chin on top of Nezumi’s head and closed his eyes.

“Nezumi, when you’re done…discovering yourself…will you still stay?” Shion asked, in a soft murmur.

Nezumi puffed out a sigh, making his moustache flutter in the breeze. “Shion.”

Shion’s arms tightened around him. “ _Nezumi_. Please. I need you here.”

“You’re stronger than you think,” Nezumi said, softly. “You’d get on just fine without me.”

Like hell. He’d get on, certainly. He’d existed without Nezumi, sleepwalking through life, and to go back to that dead feeling was an intolerable fate.

Nezumi gave a small laugh when Shion said as much.

“God knows how I got stuck with someone like you.”

“Why did you come back if you were only going to leave again?” Shion asked, desperately. “I thought – when, when you let me kiss you, when you kissed me—”

‘And then promptly left afterward,’ was the proper finisher to that sentence. It was intolerable presumption for Shion to think anything more, and yet here he was, blinking back the wetness at his eyes and gritting his teeth lest more words stumble out to mark him as an even bigger fool.

Shion buried his face in Nezumi’s fur.

“You could do so much better,” Nezumi said, after a long moment. “Better than someone who ruins your life and gets your friends killed. Better than someone who’s so fucked in the head that he only knows how to treat people like shit. Better than someone who’s such a coward that he runs away from the best thing that ever happened to him, and as such was chosen by an omnipotent animal spirit as such a prime example of blithering idiocy that he got zapped into the body of a fuzzy potato to think about what he’s done.”

“Nezumi, I swear,” Shion whispered fiercely, shaking his head.

Nezumi gently set a paw on Shion’s jaw, coaxing him to look into his eyes. “Shion. I swear.”

Shion’s mouth tugged into a watery smile. He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Nezumi’s wet black nose.

And once the smoke and flower-smell cleared, Shion was the honored recipient of a lapful of a very human, very naked Nezumi.

“Well,” said Nezumi, coughing the last of the smoke out of his lungs. “Isn’t that just the oldest cliché?”

“Nezumi,” breathed Shion, in wonder.

“Present and accounted for.” Nezumi smiled, leaning in and speaking low. “Think I can still be your mama’s mascot looking like this?”

Presented as he was with a naked and superlatively attractive individual with whom he had just exchanged awkward declarations of love, Shion was not in the mood for flirting, and expressed this by burying his fingers in Nezumi’s hair and crushing their lips together. He would have been embarrassed, perhaps, by the loudness of his moan, but the only sound that could reach his ears was Nezumi’s equally insistent one.

Barring the academic details, Shion knew little about the machinations of sex. But, guided by dreams from the endless lonely nights, he knew what he wanted to do to Nezumi. He wanted to trace his lips along his perfect jawline, he wanted to smooth his hands along his shoulders and down to his lithely-muscled arms. He wanted to drag his teeth down Nezumi’s neck and bury his face there as he pressed their bodies together as close as could be. He wanted to feel the line of Nezumi’s hips in his palms, wanted to – wanted to see if Nezumi’s ass felt as good in his hands as it did to look at. It did. Another hypothesis proved.

“Shion,” Nezumi gasped out, at length, when said individual had removed his mouth from his. “Don’t mind giving whoever might be watching through the window a show, but you’re gonna snap your spine in two jammed in the windowseat like this.”

Shion stared at him with bleary eyes, trying to process through a haze of hormones what on earth Nezumi was implying. That they stop? That was a painful thought to consider, but if Nezumi was uncomfortable…

Nezumi rolled his eyes in frustration. “Your bed. Now,” he said, through gritted teeth.

In his haste to remove them from the windowseat, Shion instead toppled them to the floor with a thump. Shion scrambled to his hands and knees, all apologies, but was halted in them by Nezumi’s laughter – loud, unfettered, and _happy_.

“His majesty has all the grace I remember of him,” said Nezumi.

The bed seemed intolerably far away at this point, and Shion would have settled quite happily for the floor, but upon consideration of the way Nezumi’s unbound hair looked spread against the hardwood, and upon consideration of how it would look against Shion’s pillow, the bed was the only conceivable option.

“Clothes off,” Nezumi stated, tugging at Shion’s belt and yanking his trousers down with one smooth motion.

Shion was hopelessly tangled in his trouser legs, and when Nezumi tilted his hips up, he abruptly couldn’t summon up the presence of mind to free himself. Their cocks fit together perfectly, and Shion could only choke out a short moan before his brain shut off completely. He buried his face in Nezumi’s bare shoulder, mouthing and worrying his teeth at his skin, as his hips moved of their own accord. Nezumi’s hands slipped up the back of his shirt, rucking it up to his armpits.

“Shion,” hissed Nezumi. “Bite.”

Shion transferred his mouth to Nezumi’s neck and complied, soothing the skin after with swipes of lips and tongue.

“ _Shion_.” One hand remained splayed against Shion’s back, while the other grabbed his ass, holding Shion there, right where he needed him. Warmth bloomed against Shion’s stomach, and Shion managed only a few more shaky snaps of his hips before he came with an embarrassing yelp.

Shion returned to the land of the living, slowly, fuzzily, finding Nezumi nuzzling at his hair. He smiled and kissed at the red mark he’d left on Nezumi’s neck.

“I just gave you a hickey,” Shion said, both amazed and proud.

“You did,” Nezumi agreed, tracing his fingers along the mark for verification. “You also came all over me. Glad you waited ‘til I was human again to do both.”

“You were cute like that,” Shion said, mock-contemplatively. “But not _that_ cute.”

Nezumi gave a swat to Shion’s rear. “You watch your mouth. I made a very cute fuzzy potato mascot, I’ll have you know.”

Shion tucked his head under Nezumi’s chin and sighed contentedly. He felt a kiss pressed to his hair.

“Think your mama will still let me keep my job?” Nezumi said, softly.

Shion entwined their fingers and kissed the hollow of Nezumi’s throat. “I’m sure.”


End file.
